


One of a Kind

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom knows just how to get Slughorn to agree to anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of a Kind

It started simply. A Glumbumble, neatly pinned to paper in a glass tray, properly labeled, sat atop Slughorn's desk. The sight of it lifted Slughorn's mouth into an ample grin. Whomever had left it obviously intended it as a gift, wrapped up so nicely for him, but the person certainly had no idea what the creature was worth—ten Galleons at least to the right buyer.

Slughorn trusted it was luck or some student's secret admiration towards him. Neither was unusual, given his prowess for collecting the best and the brightest of the world. Still, something about the Glumbumble's bent wings and wilted carcass unnerved Slughorn; it was nearly impossible to just stumble upon a dead Glumbumble, after all, and killing them was quite a task. One had to pierce the Glumbumble's heart, located under its jaw, and the fluids the creature secreted upon death caused great melancholy if they came in contact with skin.

The next evening, when several unicorn hairs showed up in a glass phial in the pocket of his robes, Slughorn's pulse quickened despite his best attempt to remain unfazed. Glumbumbles were one thing; unicorn hairs were quite another.

"Do you like them, Sir?"

The soft, assured voice startled Slughorn so much that his turban slipped down over his eyebrows as he jumped. Lifting the brim with his fingertips, he turned to find Tom Riddle standing in the doorway to the Potions classroom. A wide, coy smile slid its way across Tom's full, boyish lips as he took the first few steps into the room. Tom looked dashing in his Hogwarts robes, tie perfectly stuffed into his jumper, trousers fetching on his slight body.

"I thought you might. To the proper buyer, Unicorn hair is worth quite a profit." Tom's smile faltered just so. "Not that I would ever suggest you sell them, Sir; I thought they would make a great collector's piece. One of a kind."

"They are quite a gift, Tom," Slughorn hummed proudly, admiring them up close with squinted eyes to see the illustrious details, the glittering texture. "Quite a gift, indeed, my boy." A thought struck Slughorn then; he turned his worried eyes to Tom. "You found these on Hogwarts grounds, I assume? Snagged on tree branches, mm?"

Tom stopped and regarded Slughorn's expression for a moment, as if reading an interesting passage from a book, and then his smile returned, just as coy as before. "Yes, Sir. Snagged on a tree branch, as luck would have it. I thought of you of course, how you fancy your collections, your perfect little trophies."

Slughorn grinned proudly and tapped the glass of the phial with his fingernail before slipping it into his pocket again for safekeeping. "And the Glumbumble, too, then?" he asked, chuckling. "I ought to take you deep into the Forest sometime, Tom. Quite a little adventurer you would be."

"A good luck charm, I daresay," Tom offered, moving closer.

"Quite." Slughorn sat behind his desk and watched as Tom's fingers brushed ghostlike over the old wood of the desk. Shifting, Slughorn's cock stirred in his trousers in the quiet calm of the classroom, empty for the evening save the two of them. He admired the perfect, boyishly full cheeks on Tom's face, and the gentle upturn of his young nose. Exquisite. Like a fine Greek muse come to life. Slughorn's fingers itched to brush the stray brown hairs from Tom's face, to kiss at the sweet dimples when he smiled, to finger his virgin pucker in the darkness of his chambers, as he had done to so many others before. Merlin but Tom would be the perfect ornament to his life's work, an invaluable treasure in his collection.

"Could I bother you with a question, Professor?" Tom asked, breaking the sweet silence with his inquisitive voice.

"Of course, Tom; anything for you, my boy," Slughorn praised, rubbing his sweaty palms to his thighs, against the rich silk material of his slacks. "But please, call me Horace when we're alone." Slughorn winked for the proper effect and was pleased when Tom laughed pleasantly.

"All right, Horace," he hissed fondly, tongue snake-like on the final syllable.

To Slughorn's surprise and delight, instead of taking a seat as any other student might around the other side of the desk, Tom moved around it and lifted himself with his palms settled flat on the surface. Tipping his lithe body back, he exposed the lean planes of his boyish form as he seated himself atop the desk. Slughorn exhaled, unable to help but wet his lips at the sight before him.

"I was just wondering, Sir— _Horace_ ," Tom began, "If you might know what worth unicorn hooves hold to the right buyer."

Slughorn's gaze, which had been drowsily sweeping over Tom's body, snapped up to his face. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Slughorn removed his cap to brush his hair back, and set the turban aside beside Tom's left thigh. "I would assume they are quite valuable indeed, Tom, but truth be told I have never been fortunate enough to come in contact with such procurements directly. Why do you ask?"

Tom tipped his head with a smile that became him and melted Slughorn's very bones. "Well you see, besides the unicorn hair I found snagged on a branch, I also found the actual beast itself, dying in a clearing near the edge of the Forest. I cut off one of its hooves and the horn too, and you and I could go back for the blood and other parts if you like."

Slughorn could feel the sweat beading at his brow. The look on Tom's face was nothing like he wanted it to be—all sweetness and innocence removed, the smile that faced him was grotesque and heavy with the knowledge of life and death. Tom had always been one of Slughorn's favorites, since their first lesson together when Tom added an extra sliver of mint leaves to his Boil Cure Potion to ease the stench, but lately, there was always something troubling on the tip of Slughorn's tongue in regards to Tom Riddle. Something dangerous, unsettling.

"You look a little pale, Horace," Tom said. Leaning forward, Tom brushed a fingertip along the crease of Slughorn's thin lips. "Or...shall I call you Professor again?"

Slughorn swallowed. "Well...now, let's just... Of course I'd like to see the, well, the creature in its natural habitat, shall we say?"

Tom beamed. "Much more like you, Sir. Shall I show you the way?" Tom's long legs stretched, small feet slithering up under Slughorn's ample thighs. The toe of one shoe rubbed dangerously close to the now obvious bulge in Slughorn's trousers. "Or shall I stay and please you for a while?"

Now Slughorn was sure Tom was the same sweet boy who showed so much aptitude all these years! Yes, the very same, indeed, who had brought him the wonderful gifts he'd found, who was innocent surely to the ways of men. Slughorn slumped a little, legs spread obscenely to allow Tom's feet room to maneuver under his thighs, and hummed pleasantly.

"There's a good lad," Slughorn grunted, chest heaving. "Perhaps the unicorn can wait, my boy, until... well, yes, Tom, until you have pleased me. I daresay you are certainly quite pleasing to me."

Tom chuckled, toe wriggling up against Slughorn's hard prick as he applied slight pressure.

"Mind your shoes, dear boy," Slughorn panted, slumping further, his large stomach impeding part of his vision. When Tom removed his shoe and curled his toes around the lump of flesh that hardened ever more under his ministrations, Slughorn cursed softly. "That's the way, Tom. That's just the way."

Tom's toes stroked and rubbed until Slughorn was a simpering mess who had slid halfway out of his seat to get more pressure on his prick. Finally, when it became too unbearable to allow Tom to continue that way, Slughorn reached for the fly of his trousers. Small, nimble fingers stopped his progress.

"Please, Sir," Tom whispered, dropping his toes away as he leaned in. "Allow me."

Small hands worked slowly at the belt buckle, fumbling in just the exact way Slughorn always imagined they would. Merlin, yes, they clumsily brushed his dick, stuttered at the zip, fought with the buttons. Watching Tom as he knelt down on the cold stone floor before him, Slughorn counted every lucky star that he had collected this specimen early, that no other man had surely tasted of his sweet innocence.

When Tom looked up, his small fingers wrapped around Slughorn's dick, pulling it free of his trousers.

"Merlin, Tom," Slughorn grunted.

"Shall you tell me what to do, then?"

Slughorn gaped at Tom for a moment, as if he had forgotten him. "Of course, of course," Slughorn stammered. "You don't know how, do you? Well, let Professor Slughorn take care of you. Yes, just stroke from the base of it there, that's how I like it. Firm fist, Tom, like a good lad. Ah yes, quite like that, my boy, and rub your thumb— _yes, yes, yes_ …"

Besides Slughorn's instructions, it was quiet in the room save the sound of Tom Riddle's hand working up Slughorn's prick. Slughorn watched, eyes wide and hungry, as Tom bent towards the head of his dick and gave it an experimental, light lick.

"Was that out of line, Horace?" Tom asked, the slithering 'S' hissing in the air between them.

"Oh Merlin no, my boy… I'd like it if you licked your little tongue right there at the base, perhaps even over the balls if you like—oh there's a lad…"

For a moment, Tom lapped cat-like at the swell of Slughorn's balls and the base of his dick. Tom's tongue flattened then, drawing up the full swell of his erection, all the way to the moist, swollen head. Unable to help himself, Slughorn grunted and gripped a handful of Tom's hair, mussing it.

"Now, if you'll indulge me," Slughorn murmured sheepishly, "With a little talk? You can say anything, how good it feels, how it's your first time touching a man like this… Oh, anything would be nice between licks."

Tom chuckled against the head of Slughorn's dick. "You mean, I should say things like, 'Oh, Professor, your dick is so large I could barely fit it in my pliant little mouth, Sir'? Or, 'I might choke on the thickness of it, Sir, and licking it makes my little dick so hard for you'?"

Slughorn grunted again, orgasm drawing near the more Tom went on. "Yes, my boy, yes!" Tom had stopped licking though, so Slughorn pressed his fingers into Tom's hair, urging him on. "Go on then, Tom, don't stop now."

But Tom was staring at him with the kind of look that Slughorn feared—it was the same knowing gleam that had been present earlier, the same glint that frightened Slughorn and which made Tom look so much older and more experienced than he surely was in these matters.

"And you won't tell anyone about the unicorn I maimed," Tom whispered, suckling a trail of spit from base to tip of Slughorn's cock. "Will you, Professor?" Tom's fist returned to Slughorn's prick and squeezed at the base quite firmly, until it was almost painful to Slughorn.

"Now…now listen, Tom—"

"If you tell, I'll just inform the Headmaster about the other boys you've taken to your chambers," Tom spluttered, voice thick and nostrils flared. "Don't you think it would be better to keep it our little secret? And of course, I'll need help hiding the beast and draining its blood. It's so slick and silver in the moonlight. Perhaps we could take a walk to the Forest, and you can lay me down in the dirt and have your way. Would that please you?"

Tom's hand was working at Slughorn furiously now, and Slughorn couldn't help but watch the drizzle of sweat that beaded on Tom's pale brow. Speechless was hardly the word as Tom bent over and sucked in Slughorn's prick with a boyish moan. There was nothing more to do than tug on Tom's pretty hair and be done with it.

Just as Slughorn was brought over the edge, Tom pulled away and allowed him to come on his rosy cheeks and thick, parted lips. Tom lapped at Slughorn's dick and massaged his balls until Slughorn forced his hands and mouth away.

"You do promise, Sir?" Tom asked, wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve. "Not to tell anyone about the dead unicorn?"

Later that evening, when Slughorn helped Tom Riddle drain the pale, gaunt beast of its blood, he could not help but wish he hadn't such an affection for boys like Tom—he would give them anything they desired for just a touch or taste. A poor tradeoff, for a lifetime of guilt.


End file.
